Angel
by Global Conquest-er
Summary: I said that at some point, I would continue this. Maybe I will. Likely I won't. Sorry for those who actually cared, and I doubt any of you still do. After all, it's been YEARS.
1. Chapter 1

Angel

Disclaimer : No matter how much I wish it, Twilight belongs only to Stephanie Meyer.

This is only my interpretation of what could have happened, and does not in any way reflect ... blah blah blah ...

Note: This happens right after she leaves Jake at his house (fight, sit in car, Billy tells Charlie she'll be home, you know the part) in New Moon. I am not exactly sure at the moment about how it will end up, but this is what I think would have happened if Jake and Edward hadn't come back to her.

Chapter 1:

Bella left Jake's house with her soul in knots. She had been sure that he would have acted different. All that she knew is that she loved him. Nothing like Edward of course, that was different. She loved Jake like a brother, more than that, really, but not much more. She needed him happy, and if her being gone would do that for him, so be it.

She would leave, and never come back.

The friendship had gone too far anyways. She had let another person get in a position to make another hole. But this time, the hole, even though large, was not as large. There could have been worse.

Bella drove carefully, her eyes not leaving the road. Filled with tears though they were, her eyes could make out the sides of the road and the oncoming traffic just fine. She made it back to her house safely enough; the only thing going wrong was a slight trip as she got out of her truck. And though she fell, the small cut there was only an explanation for Charlie, for her tears.

Charlie was no fool. He understood her expression at once.

"Bella," he asked her, his voice tinted with concern, "what happened?"

"I went to Jake's" she replied, hoping to placate him.

But his expression was the same as ever, maybe even _more_ worried.

"Are you sure that something is wrong with your so-called "cult"?" he asked this time.

Here was the decision. She could either nod her head, have Charlie investigate, and maybe have her friend back, or she could pretend that her fears had been not wholly founded. She frowned, thinking of her choice, and shook her head.

"No, Dad. I was wrong. The guys are fine. Jake's happy to be in a group of people who like everything about him. He's back with Embry now. They are his friends and would not see him hurt."

Charlie was still worried. She could see it in his face and decided to tell some of the truth. Even though she stank at lying, it somehow made sure that her truths seemed even more so. She took a deep breath and said "I know it's a little weird Dad, but Jake and I need some time apart." It hurt her to say this, and even though Charlie seemed to understand, he still wasn't all that thrilled with the arrangement.

Bella dried her tears and went into the kitchen to make dinner. Tonight she hurried, all the more fast so that she go to her room and cry in peace.

Dinner was strained on her side and even Charlie seemed to notice. He was obviously uncomfortable. "I could call them," he finally said. "Maybe I could talk some sense into Billy, make him force his son …" He trailed off as Bella looked up.

"No, Dad. Even though the gesture would be kind on your part, I would rather not have to live with myself knowing that Jake was my friend only because he was asked to. Plus, I really do need the time."

Charlie looked as though he still was not sure, but humphed into his food and stopped. But the expression on his face said it all. He would not give up this thought until he deemed it necessary. They finished eating as soon as we could, and after doing the dishes, Bella went upstairs to my room.

She closed the door and collapsed on the bed, realizing that another day would come and that she was probably the least person ready for it. What type of pain would be inflicted then? Bella fell asleep to the sound of her own sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Chapter 2:

BPOV

I woke up sometime in the night to the sound of a wolf howling. For some reason, it reminded me of Jacob, and the thought stuck an emotional spear through my chest.

Now, there were two names that I could hardly think. However, the scenarios were different. HE, I refused to think the name, had left me, while I was the one to do the actual leaving in Jake's case. But, there was nothing that I could do.

Or, was there?

I thought about how I had been an emotionless thing when HE had left me. How I had heard HIS voice when I was scared. And how I loved these delusions. How my heart would be faster in my dreams if he was there, and how I loved, Loved, LOVED the way that I knew I would never forget him as long as I heard that velvet voice in my ears.

I realized, that without Jake, I would dwell on HIM and that that was unacceptable. Unless …

I had a plan. I would do crazy things on my own. I would ride my motorcycle wherever, whenever, at least after I moved out. All that meant was another year. But what would I do in the meantime?

I could maybe try to hang out with some of my school friends. Not Jessica, of course, she was to mad at me for the whole Port Angeles thing. Well, I might just have to make it up to her if the others wouldn't. But I did know that Angela would probably accept me anyways. As would Mike, and possibly a couple of others. Well, I would just have to try. If all else failed, I could always put some effort into becoming my lifeless self. Even that would be preferable to the pain that struck me with every remembrance.

But, it might be a pain to have to hide this from Charlie.

With my latest life-altering decision, I took my keys and went to get ready for school. Apparently I had some plans to make.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Chapter 3:

BPOV

It was utter pain having to pretend for Charlie that I was fine that morning. A couple of times I was almost sure that he had seen through me, but it seemed to be a false alarm both times. When I was done with my breakfast, and I had finished our dishes, Charlie left and I could breathe a sigh of relief. It only took me a couple of seconds to finish getting ready for school, although I did put on make-up so that my face looked more alive than usual. I got in the truck and left.

Because I had left so early, I got to school much before it had begun. I sat at the table that, many moons ago, I had pondered the very nature of the Cullens, namely HIM. I took a deep breath and looked around. I had to keep these thoughts from my mind. At least, for now.

When I saw Mike pull up, I smiled. It was time for my work to begin. I knew, once he had seen me and was coming over, that he too was remembering our other talk here that took place barely over a year ago. His sardonic smile was definitely visible when he realized that I too had been thinking of that moment. I smiled guiltily at him and stood up, wiping the table's dust off of my pants. I couldn't help but notice that his eyes lingered on where my hands had been a moment before, but I was used to it, in a way. It didn't disturb me as much as it should have, I suppose, but that was the least of my worries. All that it was was some obscenely founded crush. There was nothing more, and definitely nothing less. With a sigh, I got ready to do some major damage control.

"Hey Mike" I said, and it began from there.

Mike was, thankfully, in a talkative mood. This made him more susceptible to my intentions, and thankfully, our friendship was re-started quite easily, as though we had pushed a pause button on it and had just found the remote to turn it back on. Unfortunately, my renewal of friendship with him also lost me points with Jessica and Lauren, who by now, were basically enemies with me. But, Angela was as always, a great friend and would come to my defense when the other girls would try to talk mean about me.

She and I, Angela, that is, were very much alike, except for, of course, one of us hadn't had her heart taken out and stomped on. Repeatedly. Until it was nothing more than a pile of mush. But, I was, as always, a gem, and would never hold anything like that against her. Much. The only thing wrong with hanging out with Angela, I realized in the next few weeks, was that she was such a quiet and thoughtful person that all you could do was sit and think deeply. Which, was, of course, not my point in having friends.

I wanted a distraction, something that would not let me think. Ever. I wanted to be shallow and get by without ever thinking more than is needed for the necessary survival. But, Angela, being such a nice and kind girl, was trying to help, and I could not hold that against her. We studied together and hung out, and I was starting to annoy her boyfriend, Ben. He wanted some time with her too, and although that was understandable, I considered my need to be greater. However, I tried to die down my need for company and ended up with Mike way more often than I had hoped to.

He was always asking me out, "You mean like on a _date_?" I would always ask. And he would reply only most of the time that it didn't have to be, while his face fell and he looked way less interested. I told him, straight off, just like I had with –gulp– Jake, that I was only interested in him as a friend, and, after a while, he was alright with that. I was sure that this was probably because he didn't want to accept any – damaged goods – as it were, as he seemed to realize every day, and I was just fine with that. Actually, I was more than fine with that.

With basically nothing else to do, I was focusing very hard on my grades, grateful for the fact that although graduation was fast approaching, the teachers seemed to add on homework rather than take away from it. Homework was my refuge, my life, and, unfortunately, there was not enough of it.

I never shared these views with Mike, I knew that he would scoff and turn away in disgust, and, even though I did not like him all that much, I would have hated to drive him away, as he was one of the reasons that I was still sane (well, as sane as I could be). But, even though my views did not go to Mike, they were passed onto Angela, on accident one day, as I was trying to find something to talk about that wouldn't leave us in the contemplative silences that always brought my silences to HIM. When I told her this, the thing about homework, she looked at me for a second longer than the usual, and seemed to see something in me that, I suppose, I had been trying to hide from her. "Because then you have extra time to think," she had told me about myself, a piece of the puzzle fitting perfectly for her. And I looked away blushing. She changed the topic fairly quickly then, and afterwards made sure that there wasn't much dead time when we hung out, for which I was especially grateful. She was one of the best friends a person could have. Apart from – well, I wasn't going to be thinking about THEM. Plus, they left! What was good – friend behavior in that?

Anyways, with graduation less than a week away, I decided that soon I would be able to think about them. But not yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Chapter 4:

BPOV

Graduation was a nightmare. People were everywhere, crying, talking about the "good old times" of which I was never a part, and things that they were planning to do, places they were planning to go. A bunch of us, Angela and I included, went back into the high school to change out of the hideous florescent yellow graduation robes that we were forced to wear, and into something less uncomfortable.

The thought of leaving Forks struck me with fear, because what if the unforeseeable were to happen and HE … or his family … but, no. They wouldn't, and that was final. The only reason that I needed Forks was that it was the one place that truly reminded me of HIM. And I couldn't leave any memory of HIM to itself. The quiet memories were all I had left now, everything that had substance I had destroyed in an effort to dull the pain.

In order to continue with my charade at normalcy, I had applied to a ton of different colleges, plus, Angela was doing it too. However, I doubted that we were doing it for the same reasons. She, for some unknown reason, actually did want to go to college, whereas I could hardly care less.

Sometimes, when life hands you a lemon, you don't make lemonade. Instead, you just suck on it.

But, there seemed no reason to go to college other than to keep Charlie happy. Still, that would be reason enough, wouldn't it? And besides, with him out of the way, it would be easier to do the "chasing death" routine that I had planned. Not to say that I was suicidal. I was probably the farthest person from it, actually. Suicide, I had realized quickly enough, would be unkind to HIS memory, and if he ever did find out, even if he didn't care, he would hate me all the more for. So, I had to live with my pathetic self for a while more, until something natural came along and peace would come too.

But, I had to pull myself to the present. I was at graduation with Charlie and a couple of guests he had invited along: the Blacks.

Jake was standing off to the side as though he didn't want to be here, and that was fine with me. His reluctance to talk with me had stung, but was getting more normal. Sometimes at night I dreamed about him, when he was young, and our friendship was as easy as breathing. I could never wake up after that with my face dry. But, one has to grow used to these things.

I looked at his face once more before I pretended to smile. I had to do this right, if only for Charlie.

"Hey, Billy! Hey, Jake!" I said to them once I had gotten close enough. Jake's face turned even harder, if that could even happen, but Billy seemed the same as always.

"Nice dress, Bella." Billy told me, looking up from his wheelchair so that he could see my face. I looked down to see what I was wearing, forgetting, as I usually did, anything that did not revolve around HIM, or anything that was of any big importance (as if anything could be more important than HIM).

It was a red colored dress that reached my knees, barely, and had a chain belt that gently looped around my middle. It was a graduation present from Renee, who had been distraught to realize that she could not go to her daughter's graduation because her new husband, Phil, had broken his leg. I understood though, and it was a relief to not have to pretend as fully as I would have if she were here, and risk Charlie's confusion at my mood change.

I shrugged at him and told him that it was a gift. He grinned up at me, realizing my disgust with the conversation of clothing.

At Billy's prompting, Jake too looked at the dress, but then looked stiffly away. I could see in his eyes that he did not want to be here. I hurried them along, and as Charlie too was shedding tears of nostalgia, we got to his car quite quickly. We all got inside the cruiser, with all of us having carpooled there in the first place, and went to The Lodge, one of Charlie's favorite places to eat, being that it was the only restaurant nearby that want fast food. I didn't really care where we were, as long as it ended, and we all sat down to suffer a long two hours of food and chatter, Charlie being unaware of the tension. Billy, of course, had a good enough disposition that he could pretend with the best of them of his ease, but in his son there was a startling difference.

Jake was looking more angry by the second. He never looked once at me, or at his dad, who, I suppose, had forced him to come here. However, the looks that he gave Charlie were filled with some unfriendly expression that I could not place. Thank goodness Charlie did not notice, or else he would use his confused and sad expression that almost made me cry.

To leave the table was a relief. We had finished with our dinner and we piled back into Charlie's police car and drove home. Jake's Rabbit was parked there and he practically forced his dad to get in there as soon as we got back, even though his dad had agreed to stay later. And although I felt hurt at the obviousness of his disgust for me, I was sort of relieved when he left.

"Well," Charlie said on the way into the house, "that was nice, wasn't it?"

And while I wanted to laugh at this, I just replied, "I'm glad that I have so many good friends."

For a second, I almost thought that he bought it.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer : Stephanie Meyer's works do not belong to me. Except for one paperback edition of Twilight, one hardcover edition of New Moon, and one hardcover edition of Eclipse. But, what I meant was that even though I use her characters, they do not belong to me.

Chapter 5:

BPOV

And I thought that _graduation_ was hard.

The long summer, filled with countless hours of the pure pain that comes with boredom, was much harder to get through. I could do nothing insane, nothing genius, and nothing pain-relieving in case Charlie would find out.

My time at work dwindled, even though summer was the Newton's busiest season. There were still rumors about enormous wolves, but not as much as there had been before.

Angela and I would hang out, at her house, at mine, and sometimes we would go shopping, but not so much, as shopping reminded too much of a certain member of THEIR family. And although the pain had been hard to bear in the beginning, middle, and even now, not CLOSE to the end, it was welcome. Not that I liked pain, but that even that was preferable of the closed-minded decidedly not-remembrance. And I was starting to think that Angela was only hanging out with me because I seemed more and more desperate for something, _anything_ to do to get my mind off of THEM.

And, I understood.

Sometimes, when we talked, it would be about meaningless nonsense such as what we thought about a movie, or a book, or a play. We were fairly creative, and tried to make up stories about funny things that could happen. It makes me sad to say that although mine made me laugh, Angela's were the only ones that were filled with a truly funny and lighthearted subject. And, being the observant person that she was, so much like I had been, she learned more and more about how deeply I was scarred, and how filled I was with mistrust.

Sometimes, when Ben took her away to go on a date, I could see her expression turn relieved before she pretended that all was fine. And I thought I understood.

How could I, not normal in the least anymore (unless it came to THEM and I was too normal) even pretend to be so in front of friends? I tried to seem less pained, and more fun in front of some people, especially Charlie, but in front of Angela I was more myself than anyone else. And, I also realized, after our connection (of FRIENDSHIP, please, you sickos, do NOT read anything into this) had become stronger, that I was letting her carve a piece of my heart too. Maybe she wouldn't go through with the action quite yet, but it would definitely happen if my past friendships are anything to go on.

So, I tried to spend less time with her. But it was hard, way hard. I remember there once being a two-day period of separation. She called me once to see how I was doing, and I told her that all was well. Not quite sure if she accepted it or not, I put the phone down and settled in to wait. But the waiting did not last long.

Late at night, I was having a HORRIBLE time. I could not think of anything that was not THEM related and it disturbed me. I had sat around both days and just counted, the hours minutes, and seconds that my will would be strong enough for. I didn't look good, or feel good, and I needed people NOW.

I took off, on foot, and knocked at her window (at three in the morning). She wasn't awake yet, but that was to change quickly.

When she finally opened the door, she was startled by my appearance, my hair all over, my clothes messed, and my whole self covered lightly in dirt, having fallen on the way over. She quietly let me in and I cried until the sun started to shine. Through it all, she looked at me with pity and fear. She decided to stay with me for a while more and I realized that she was glad for me, that this was a part of the human healing process.

But even though I seemed like a human, I ran like one, I really wasn't, not anymore.

Not to say that I was a monster, but I wasn't like other people, more normal people.

I was scarred for life, not on the outside, but on the inside, and though it hurt like Hell every day of my life, I lived through it. I was definitely not human anymore. No human could go through so much pain and survive. And somehow, I knew that to be a fact.


	6. Chapter 6

Re-disclaimer: One: I do not own Twilight. Stephanie Meyer does. Two: The plot for this chapter stinks, but it had to be done. Sorry, but that;s the way it is. But, please, no worries, it WILL get better. It's basically only this chapter that stinks.

Chapter 6:

BPOV

I stayed at Angela's for the rest of the day and she explained to Charlie that we had plans while I got cleaned up from the terrible night. While Angela told me about all sorts of famous people who had survived disastrous break-ups only to become even more successful with their life, and I nodded along, looking suitably glum-but-healing, my thoughts revolved around what I was to do with the rest of my life. Apparently, to survive, I had to be surrounded by distractions, and what better place to be distracted than college? But, which college?

I had applied to a wide variety of such establishments earlier on in the year, for the normal spot at the school and dorm, and also for financial aid. I refused to take any more money from Charlie as he had already done so much for me. Of course, due to my good grades, I had gotten some fairly substantial offers from several places, but I had never fully thought of actually going.

Why would I leave the place where I felt the most beauty?

Why would I let go of something that I loved?

But the answer was clear. I could go to a college nearby and therefore not be too far away. And, as I realized this, I also was able to make that my top choice.

In the middle of one of Angela's stories about a guy who dumped a girl who, after a month of mourning, lived to be Queen of Great Britain (which I knew was probably one of the worst lies that I had ever heard), I interrupted her.

"Angela," I told her, "I have decided to go to Washington State for college."

She frowned, trying to make sense of the statement's relevance in the discussion. And then her frown grew more pronounced as she realized that I had no plan on leaving the area, but, it was easy to see the wheels in her head turning. If I was to go to college, that was still more moving on than she had thought, and she was proud of that step I had taken. And, as many doctors have told me, HIS father included, a broken bone should not be used as soon as it is out of its cast. It needs to be treated carefully at first and then it can be used more and more as time goes on.

I could see that Angela had gone to treating me in that respect, like a broken bone, in order to help me heal faster too. Well, I had news for her : it wasn't going to work. But, to not hurt her feelings, and to not ruin the dedication and hard work that she put into everything, I decided not to tell her.

I pretended that it hurt, but it was getting better. What I didn't let her know that what was getting better was my ability to lie.

And I was great. At lying (again sickos, back off! You know that that's not what I mean). People would be able to pass me on the street without thinking "Wow, what PAIN she must be going through!" And, as that was something that I desperately wished to avoid, I was glad.

So, I went home and, tired from the days ordeals, went to bed.

I had an amazing dream. HE was there, and it wasn't pain to say his name.

Edward, Edward, EDWARD, I wanted to scream it out to the world. His name was pure beauty, joy, and even now, was LOVE.

And his IMAGE was brilliant, it was as if he was standing there before me. He, at first, was standing still, looking pained, which hurt me. Oddly, it was the only thing that hurt me here in this beautiful dream. And, the setting was odd too. It was a place that I had never been, or imagined, which was weird, because I had heard once that dreams were your subconscious telling you things and bringing you back to places that meant to you. But, I did not care, this dream was wondrous and I clang to it with all that I could. I looked back at the most precious participant of this dream, Edward. His pained expression had hardened, his features had become resolved. He looked into the distance, took a step forward, and disappeared.

I was distraught. Why would he leave me IN A DREAM?

But I wasn't all that sad. I had remembered his perfect face, his standing form, and even SMELLED him, if I wasn't mistaken. It wasn't all that bad of a dream after all. I settled into different dreams that made more sense.

Jake was a participant of one of my other dreams too. But this one was not beautiful or wanted, definitely compared to the one with HIM (I could not bear to think his name anymore, not being graced with his presence or at least the illusion of it). He was standing in front of me, like HE had been, looking into the distance. I was surprised to realize that he was standing on the road we had rode our bikes on way back when, and at the end was another familiar figure. It was a woman, well, not exactly, but that was beside the point, with a billowing of red hair. Victoria. And, Jake took a step towards her, and disappeared. There was a rippling in the air and, not even half of a second later, in his place was a big red wolf, the one that I had seen in the meadow with Laurent. And the wolf took a step towards the woman that I still had nightmares about, and they leaped at each other.

Just because I didn't think about Jake much anymore, though, didn't mean that I did not like him. He was my friend and he always would be part of my life, even if I wasn't there for him. I woke up with a scream, and several realizations.

One: Jake was a WEREWOLF. I mean, I had expected that SOMETHING was up, but for some reason, I hadn't believed that there could be any monsters other than vampires.

Two: If werewolves existed, then so did other mythical creatures.

Three: I seemed to "know" a lot of stuff without even thinking about it. Probably, I had some sort of REM induced ESP, but,

Four: It wasn't a REM induced ESP.

Five: I was a part of another myth.

I wondered briefly if that would mean that I, also, wouldn't age like

Six: Jake was a WEREWOLF. This brought other factors into the picture. He wouldn't age, and along with other things, there was a short matter of something creepy called IMPRINTING which was like making magnets between people.

But I realized that if I wasn't to age, I wouldn't feel so old.

I needed to make sense of some things. I decided to look some stuff up and quickly went over to the side of my room with the computer and booted it up.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Nothing of Stephenie Meyers' is mine. This includes her stories, plotlines, charchters, toothbrush, curling iron, and anything else that she may own.

Chapter 7

BPOV

It took forever for my stupid computer to load. I wasn't in the mood to wait, and I paced as it tried to boot up. I was bored. Bored, Bored, Bored. I needed a faster computer.

I knew that Charlie was planning to surprise me with a new-model laptop for a going-away present for college, and even though I was grateful, that was WAY too much money to be spending on ME, probably one of the most undeserving people of all times. But, at the moment, I wanted to rip it out from the bottom of his closet, out of its box, and see if it would work ANY FASTER than the stupid computer I was using right now. I kicked it for good measure, but sat back down and sighed after hurting my toe. One would think that I would get less clumsy after a while. But, I wouldn't. And I knew it. For sure, this time.

I decided to do some experimenting while I waited. If I wondered something, I would know the answer, and sometimes, I would just know stuff.

For example, I wondered what I was. And my subconscious mind told me that I was part of a mysterious people with some sort of clairvoyant powers, that we were not just intuitive. There were one of us per generation, and once one had been born into your bloodline, you would never be cursed with this gift again. The wording of that though, "cursed with this gift" seemed a bit odd, but I decided that the wording was the least of my worries. They (meaning my descendants) would also be more prone to evolving. At the end of time, they, along with the other families who had a Quinny in their list of ancestors, would be saved. However, this was only a heightened chance, unless the bearer of the powers had somehow found a way into immortality. I, however, doubted that I would ever do either thing (become immortal, or have children). With the explanation came a name: Quintiliana, or, in the men's case, Quintiliator. The men were born into this every five generations, which was the "Qiun" part of the name. There was something a little bit sinister in our past, and, of course, darker things in our future, but for now, we as a whole, and me alone, would be safe. I idly wondered where and who the others were, but I did not really care enough to try and find out.

Even though I was going to be fine with that, something deeper urged me to continue my online search.

Once the internet had booted itself up, I looked up the phrase "Quintiliator" and waited for the results to come up. Things were looking grim once I realized that there would be no results, stemming from the fact that it seemed not to be a true word. But, there were a few sites, and I knew to skip to the second page and to click on the third link down. That was where I would find my answers.

* * *

The webpage that I finally showed up on was a site of how to practice dark magic. It seemed to be a weird cult-ish sort of thing but there were links on the left-handed side, as most websites have, and one of them was labeled "the truth about OUR KIND" which made me believe that it was exactly what I was looking for. And, indeed, it was.

This page's style was different than the others. It was written in a slightly less spooky scrawl, its letters looking more typed than drawn in a perfect calligraphy.

There were links on this page too, reminding me of the dictionary of vampires (I shuddered to remember even the word) that I had come across my junior year. Those days seemed so long ago, as though I had aged a thousand years in just one. But, I tried to force myself to let go, for a while. The time that I spent in perfect memory was soon in coming, all I had to do was to wait. The waiting would not take very long.

The links had names of different "covens" among witches (I had not known that covens were not only for vampires), and the types, in between. There was no true link for what I was, until I saw one halfway down the page that called to me. It was for a coven that lived in the lower portions of New York City. However, when that was read, I knew that it was a lie. There would be covens of "witches" in the big cities, but they would not be what I was looking for. The page that I had clicked on was, truly, something that you had to read between the lines on. There were some outright lies (to protect us, I felt), but other things were only the truth.

One of these absolute truths was the line of succession.

Apparently, if a Quinny (**just a shortened nickname for it, it was too long to say every time**) was to meet a person, in the lower generation that they felt was the right person for the job. They would mentor their choice, but not to the mentored person's knowledge. It was a weird schooling that no one knew much about, just that it happened. The teacher would spend time with the student, and, without speaking the secrets aloud, somehow, the student's subconscious mind would pick up the facts. They would live in relative peace, usually, until need was upon them, or a default age (21) when their mind would be opened to the powers that had come to them.

And, with this knowledge, I also knew who had been my "teacher", an actual teacher back in Phoenix. She taught third grade, and trained me not to be afraid of the dark. I remember those days too, only not with so much pain. I was eight and I was aged inside. I had already started to take care of my flighty mother and I had felt SO OLD. I remember my teacher telling me of how surprised she was that I was so mature for my age. Looking back on it with fresh eyes, I now realized that that had been the moment that she made the initial connection.

And, another thing that I realized about that moment, in my old-young-person age, I actually hadn't felt all that old, in comparison. It is one thing to feel old, and an altogether new thing to feel ANCIENT.

But, out of the memories, and back to the future, the past, and anything in between.

Quinnys.

As it has been said before, there were some outright lies, and some not.

One lie was that we aged to old, then we were reborn in the ashes of ourselves, like a phoenix. Instead, as my mind told me, we DID age, and then become young again, but this was a different case. We, for lack of a better description, UN-AGED, until we hit the age that we had become Quinny. Then we would re-age until we reached the age that we had un-aged from in the first place. This cycle would be repeated until we found a way into true immortality, or died of something other than old age or disease.

Our immune systems were booted to be insanely high, or good, whichever way you prefer to see it. We were able to get hurt, but we healed quickly.

Another lie was that there were none of us that live anywhere other than New York. It said that we liked the smog, and that it was doubtful that we could live without it.

This was an obvious lie. Actually, those of us out there were more of a tree-hugging personality, some of us actually belonging to those insane groups for people who protest the treatment of the Earth. (**FYI: I'm not calling them insane, just the fact that they feel the need to make groups of people who do stuff that … ahem … anyways, just one voice is needed, why do people think they have to scream to be heard??**)

We lived in forested areas, beaches, and the plains. We were a clean people who lived in the city only if we had to. My attraction to Phoenix was gone by now, the change in me having taken place quickly enough. I wanted only to be one with nature, one with the wind, the sun, the stars, the moon.

(And, except for my want to be back with HIM, I was totally as I should be)

There were also distinguishing physical qualities that we had. We started out on the shorter side when we were young, but we would grow to be exactly 6 foot 1 and even our process of aging would not change that. Quinnys were pale, but not the pale that I had found that … ahem … vampires were. We were able to (fly??) do some sorts of magic stuff, as long as we had the supplies, or the power (power was handed down by our ancestors, and only a few of the Quinnys would have such, whereas the supplies could be used by anyone Quinny.)

We had no souls. Spirits, yes, but souls, no. And, because I have met people who are kind and believe they have no souls, I was fine with this arrangement. It didn't matter anyways. Not to me, not anymore. I did not care about ANYTHING anymore.

Our minds were protected from practically anything, a trait that shows up early in ourselves, but our bodies could be manipulated by basically anyone. However, we were fast, graceful, and strong (again, qualities that the vampires had, but ours were less in concentration). And, even though we had grace, that did not mean that all of us weren't prone to many accidents, a quality that was needed before we were turned.

Quinnys were more likely to be reserved and shy, but they could grow out of it, as some of the older ones had done. It would be hard, but, because it was possible, I knew that there was probably some hope left for me.

* * *

Learning so much about my new self in less than an hour was tiring, and I cried myself back to sleep, the pain of being so different overwhelming me. The only good thing was that I now knew the location of a few of my peers, my fellow Quinnys. They too lived in covens, in big happy families. I knew that although I did not want to be a part of it, that I would at least be able to learn a little more about them, about us, and our ways of life.

I would pretend to be happy, and I would survive.

However, I would, no matter what, go to college and follow through with my plan. My plan of a way to find true happiness, or, at least, as close to true happiness I could find in this life.

* * *

And, a note from your author :)

* * *

Alright now, I just wanted to say something. This chapter is a bit messed up, I agree. And, I am sorry for ruining the plotline. I had it all plotted out, I just had to fine-tune the details. However, in this line of trial, I really did mean to keep it the right way; unfortunately, I was getting bored with the story and decided to mess with it. I pulled points and traits of people from my other stories (ones that noone will ever see in the light of day, the dark of night, or any other time in between) and I screwed this story up. It will take me FOREVER to form the story back into what it was supposed to be, and I appologize. The people who actually enjoyed this story, I appologize even more to you. Please forgive my stupid behavior, and bear with me as I try to put this story back on track. I will try to make things better, and quickly. Have fun with the rest of it, and please remember that life is a barrel of surprises, therefore when something unexpected or incredibly stupid or unbelievable jumps out at you from the pages of a book, or the screen for a fanfic, we should all bear it in style and with patience. Or not, you can choose. Tell me if you think that this extreemly unbelievable turn in the story is alright, or if I should give up, crawl into a whole and bury myself. The button IS right there.

And, from a fake Chapter Eight:

Author's note

* * *

Argh!! What is it with you people? What is there to get!?

She knows things. It is not all that complicated. If she wonder's something, she will know the answer!! She has a silent voice in her head that tells her things!

Wow! You GET IT that I have no CLUE as to what I am doing with this dratted story, right?? I was bored, so I messed it up, and I can't go back. Seriously, if you could see it in my head … just be glad you are not me, ok. Sorry for the rant. **Chapter 8 will be in Leslie's POV, so no worries. **

Oh, by the way, Leslie is a Quinny.

This will help explain some stuff, I hope.

**Basically, Bella is not HUMAN, she is a mystical creature, a witch-like thing. She is somewhat clairvoyant and has magical powers. She has been "saved" at age 18, going on 19 from her own mentally unstable condition by this Quinny junk.**


	8. Chapter 8

Discalimer: Yay! Most of the people in this chapter belong to me! IOA: Leslie, Holie, Kraden, Mattew, Marie, Abi, wierdo store lady, Jim, and Sara are all mine! However, any other name or character mentioned, belong to the wonderful Stephanie Meyer!

Chapter 8:

LPOV (in this case, for those who are wondering, L does not mean Laurent. Laurent, as you may recall, has been killed already when Bella was walking in the woods. The wolves came up and … well, you should remember. Yes, I have checked to make sure, that YES, that happened before she found out what Jake was, or even re-became friends with Jake. Therefore, L means someone else, and No, that is not Lauren either. Lauren has gone off to California to spend time with some of her cousins – nasty people they are – before college starts up, I anybody wants to know, not that they would. L is a new character, but not a main one. And, don't worry, the chapter should not all be in his point of view.) Happy readings!

I walked from work back into my car, knowing that I would be meeting someone new tomorrow. Who, where, and why were all foreign to me, but, I had long since had to put up with only knowing the half of things when I was supposed to know all. Not that I was supposed to be omniscient, because I wasn't. I was just supposed to be a super-sensitive person who was able to understand things quicker than most, at least, as a definition, that is.

Truly, I had no real idea why anybody in their right mind would connect with someone to give them the property of infinite wisdom. Why did I, of all people, have to be chosen no less than 400 years ago? And, why, did I have to live so LONG?

I mean, I am not suicidal, or anything, but once you've lived a really long lifespan, more than FOUR TIMES, you'd rather things just end. I'm normal, I fear death, but, now, I also fear life. My one son died years ago, and his grandson's grandson's son is about 4 years old now. I wish that time would slow down so that I could get to know him too, but I know that it is impossible. Anyone near me for a number of years can notice how I do not age. And, therefore, I can only live with people of the same traits as me.

We call it a coven, our little joke of what others say. People who call themselves magic-makers, or witches and wizards, sorcerers and sorceresses put themselves into groups too, call them covens, and pretend that that is all the family that they need. But, these people live in the cities, big towns where they are surrounded by the bustling folk, people who do not look down at them long enough to care. In a smaller town, they would be frightening to others; people would think that they were too weird to be around. But, hidden in the city, they are fine the way they are, pretending that they magic they do is real, and not just a figment of their imagination.

But, I do know that magic is real. It is full of wonder and beauty. But, it can only be seen by some. These people must be full of an understanding, and an acceptance towards what they do not know and what they do not see. Either that, or, they must be one of us, damned to a life of fullness and long years that never end.

And we can no longer understand their acceptance, or the newness of any situation. For we have done everything that we have ever wanted to. We find no excitement anywhere, knowing that if we wonder something, there is no joy in trying to figure out a problem or a theory, for, as soon as we wonder, we know.

The littlest things bother us now; at least, it is so for those who are as old as we are. We have not found our way to a complete immortality, nor have we found a release. And, the fact that there could be release out there, is the reason that all of us still have some hope.

My musings brought me all the way to our home, at the edge of town.

It was a long-standing house, around 150 years old, electricity and indoor plumbing having been installed right before we got here, a couple of years ago. Aging only a little over a few years is normal, but when you look as you did when you got there around a decade ago is pushing it. We, as Quinnys, are able to change the appearance of age, but we have to do it every morning, so we only stay in one place for a few years, just in case one of us slips up.

The house, being old, is beautiful. It is painted in a light blue color that matches the color of the sky on a clear summer's night. We have to redo the color every six years, but it is worth it, and, with our enhanced speed, we can do it in around a day, rather than a true paining company's "two to six workdays" answer. But, we are clumsy as well as graceful (I want to wonder how that could happen, but then it would take away the mystique) and have small accidents in painting things, which is why it would take us so long.

We can be good at anything that we want, unless, of course, it includes sports. That is the only thing that we are not good at. If it involves running and jumping, we always trip and fall. If it involves catching and throwing things, then we will either be smacked in the face, or smack someone else in the face. Overall we are not good with anything physical.

As I reach the house, the others come out to greet me. They have decided to enroll in the local high school for fun, but I see no fun in school, or by surrounding myself with people. However, my "family" does. They enjoy seeing the struggles that other people go through, and then trying to help fix them. I enjoy the stories of such things when they are told, but, personally, I find it to hard to do. I am not good with social things.

They walk out of the house, faces glowing, ready, I know, to tell me another story of what has happened that day.

There they are, all five of them, looking at me, knowing me, as I know them.

The one on the far right with the newly dyed blue hair, probably to match her sparkling blue eyes, would be Holie; the one standing next to her would be Kraden.

Kraden does not kill his hair like Holie did with dyes, he, instead, wears some of the most absurd clothing that I have ever seen in my life. His shirt reminds me of the things that really old men wear down in Florida, the Hawaiian flowers standing out from the tie-dye background. His brown hair, however, speaks of plainness, as do his same colored eyes.

He and Holie are not together, nor are they anything like it. They are more like best-friends.

None of us would ever be together with another person. Ever. This was a trait of our kind; we were the people with the broken hearts and the pained smiles. The people left behind stayed behind.

The person on Kraden's left is another boy, Mattew, slightly less insane in clothing choice, instead wearing a normal boy's outfit, a plain t-shirt with a pair of jeans. His eyes are black, filled with an anger that dissipated over time, but would always come back. He, however, is probably the most kind and gentle of the entire lot of us.

On his left is Marie. She was turned at age fourteen, running for her life from an abusive step-dad. Her face is always haunted and her green eyes always looked as though they would pop out of her head. She is nice to children, but when she spends any time with an adult male, usually anyone with dark hair, she will become incredibly uncomfortable, remembering her step-father's cold glances, and violent tendencies. She likes trying to make people's lives better, and, if she had not been turned so young, she would have become one of the world's greatest child-services' worker.

Beside Marie is Abi. She is, apart from Marie and Holie, the youngest (in actual years, not in turned age) person in the family. She rarely smiles, but when she does, it is like the sun is in her face. Her brown eyes light up, turning almost a golden color, accentuated by her dirty-blond hair. She too, enjoys the school and messing with people's lives there.

I make sure that they do not mess for the worse, unless it is truly deserved.

The only reason that they have not turned bitter, like me, is because they have something to live for in there. They enjoy helping people without their noticing, while I cannot help but think of everything that I have lost because of this curse. Give or take a couple more centuries, and I doubt that they will be the same as they are now. But, for now, let them have their fun, because it will all end eventually.

They, too, know that I think that, because they have all wondered at some point towards my well-hidden bitterness. I know that because I wondered if they ever have wondered that. And, sometimes I wonder if they wonder of my wondering, which they haven't yet. Quite a cycle there, isn't it?

As they come to me, ready to tell me a fact about their school day, they have questions for my day too. My day, my work, my life outside the home.

And I will answer any questions that they ask, because I do not want them to wonder and therefore pry farther than I hope, into my personal life.

"Leslie," Abi asks me, "How did work go?"

I look at her, thinking for one moment that maybe life would be better if it weren't so predictable all of the time. Maybe I wouldn't be so depressed if someone else asked me that question, or if maybe she asked a different question. But, I realize that my thought was just mean, and I apologize in my head for it. Not that she would hear, we cannot read each other's minds as we are all protected as a Quinny rule, but, it makes me feel less guilty.

"Work was fine, Abi dear. How was school?" I ask in a voice that radiates tension. The tension is from work, now that I think about it, but, I will not change my answer now.

Abi positively glows.

"Because today was the first day," she starts and Holie finishes the sentence quickly, impatient to get it out there, "there were all sorts of new people with new problems to fix. We met a family that radiates good smells, and are a little chilly. Their eyes are gold, and they barely eat anything at lunch! Kraden looked into it, and he says that they are vampires!"

Holie is like that. She is always chipper, and always looking for things that would make her stand out even more. She is on, as she puts it "an eternal quest to find something fun".

But something bothers me. I think back to what she has just said, sifted through it with a fine-toothed comb, and came out with one word.

Vampires.

See, I had known a group of vampires back when I was, for lack of a better word, younger. They lived in Italy and were some of the scariest peoples that I had ever met. Not to say that they had met me.

No, I was walking in the street one night and a man walking by had accidentally brushed my hand. It was incredibly cold, and I was surprised, because it was a warm summer evening. I had wondered why it was so cold, innocent in everything, and found out, quite by accident the existence of vampires.

I had wondered many things about them, not really hoping for answers, and found them. Not the people, no, it was the answers that I found. I was too afraid of what they might do to me if they knew about my knowledge of them, and I knew that they would hurt me I told them. So I didn't do anything about it. And I have lived in fear of anything vampire again, because, in one of my questionings, I had found out that one of their number was able to read every thought you had ever had with a single touch, and, I was deathly afraid that it had been him that had brushed me in the alleyway. That was one thing that I was able to keep myself from wondering (if I knew that it was, then I would be afraid even more. Without the knowledge, I had hope left that it was one of the others, Marcus, perhaps Caius, or even more hopefully, one of their guard, just a super-fast one, not a blood-thirsty-all-the-time sort of vampire that thought it would be good sport to try and hunt out someone that they had seen in the street. And, every morning, I wondered if they were still alive, the answer swirling in my head, mocking me, always saying yes, but in an amused sort of tone.

"Vampires." I have to say the word aloud, in order to not seem suspicious. The thought makes my knees feel as though they had been made of cream-filled donuts. Soft and sugary, sometimes they smell good, but not all that handy when it came to races.

If they realized my reaction, they would wonder on it and then my cover would be gone. But, still, I was the oldest, the most curious of all of them, if you count all of my wonderings over all of my years. I must have wondered about something before. I must tell them what I knew, in order to not frighten them.

I brake out in a sweat, wondering if my earlier notice of a visitor was a warning. Of vampires.

"What were you thinking!" I shout at them, wondering if they would be afraid of this new mutation of myself, stiff cold, and now angry. We were supposed to be a kind and happy people, but we could go sour over the years, as I had. But, still, one would think that I would not be all that bad, but I seemed to be so.

And, I had forgotten, as I usually do, that a thought like that must be answered. And so it was, the old and tired voice of myself resounding in my head with a:

_"Yes, they WILL be frightened of your reaction. However their curiosity will only be towards yourself and not on the reasons for your reaction."_

I try not to look surprised or to jump, as the voice is a constant surprise.

But, I must continue with my rant as I have dug myself a deep hole. All that is left is to jump. I wonder, scratch that, I _speculate_ where I will land and if I will turn out alright.

"You DO realize that your blood will smell all the sweeter to them? You ARE, after all, a mythical creature too, just not so much widely known."

Actually, no one but ourselves should know about us at all.

Wait, we DID have to put up an ad of sorts on the internet for later generations to find us with, so there might be a couple of people apart from us that knew something of our kind.

They however, would be misled a bit by the definition of us that had been placed. They would believe that we were a kind of witch-faith in New York City. That fact was probably the most untrue of them all; we, in fact, are something much like Christians, having wondered if God really was real, we would have received the answer.

"Actually," Holie starts, reminding me that the others were standing in front of me. And they seem curious.

" Kraden did wonder about their eating habits, he said that they called themselves 'vegetarians', but we had no idea of what that meant. So, instead, he asked if there was a mind-game that would shield our smells, and the answer was "Yes". He was asked to imagine the worst smell possible, and he says that he first thought of garbage, then pollution, but eventually landed on blood. And, apparently it worked. They never gave us a second look, except the shortest, pixie-like one who stared at Kraden's shirt like it was going to kill her. I wondered why and apparently it is because she 'prides herself on her fashion sense'!"

Here she pauses to giggle, but, after taking a breath, she plummets back into her story.

"They seemed nice enough; they were secluded in their group, so we couldn't get a good enough look. We took a vote and decided to show favor to them tomorrow, just to see their reaction. We ARE the social elite this year, you know. They should be happy to be popular."

_But they won't be_, the voice in my head told me.

_They would live with it, but being in the eye of the school would be too much pressure for them, even the one that thrives on attention_.

I am not placated by this statement, still not sure if they will come and hunt me down.

The voice would quickly enough tell me, but for now, I take joy in its absence, finally cut short by its arrival.

_The one hunting you down is not a vampire, not today at the least._

As I breathe a sigh of relief, I look at the others and decide to tell them a story of my day in return. Not all of the things that I do spark pain and disgust in me.

* * *

HPOV

We hear Leslie's car pull on up and gather ourselves together. We have some interesting news for him, and are excited.

_Be careful_, the voice that is in all of our heads, tells us.

_He is depressed and thinking hard about something today. Try not to disturb what peace he has left today._ We all take this warning in stride, having heard it a lot in the last few years.

We run out of the house, careful not to fall. Marie trips, but Abi quickly grabs her up before she falls, a barely noticeable thing, and Les is too rapped up in his thoughts to notice even the bird that flies above him, calling out happily in its own language. I wonder, just for fun, what the bluebird is saying, calling out to the other birds.

In its squawks, it is telling the others that there is danger in the woods. Quickly checking, I find that it is only a couple of people hunting, which, although it seems odd, does not make anyone fear. Everything is fine.

We take one look at Les, and we put on our brightest welcoming faces.

Kraden, stands beside me as we wait for our father-figure to come up to us.

Les's golden hair shines brightly, a direct contrast from his dulled gray eyes. He not only looks tired, but like he might soon decide to give up.

That is something that none of us want for him; he is probably the kindest soul that anyone has ever come across, he who took all of us in as soon as we were found. We made a nice happy family now, except for Les and his weird mood swings.

He never really says anything out of place, but we can all tell from his eyes, his face, and even the way that he stands, that he wants to be done.

We walk up to him, as he walks up to us, his eyes going over every detail of us, making sure that we are not any different than how he left us this morning.

I had dyed my hair a shocking blue, to go with my beautiful eyes right after he left, not wanting to have him stop me before the deed was done. And, although he says that the dyes kill it (I know that it doesn't, I once wondered if he was right) I know that he likes the change too. His eyes pop a little when they see it (it really IS a shocking color) but he goes on with his search, accepting the modification without a fuss, as I knew he would.

He looks a bit disgusted with Kraden's "old man shirt", not knowing that Kraden only dressed like so to mess with people. He truly is more fashion forward than he lets anyone believe.

His eyes go over Mattew and Marie without a pause, their appearances as pristine as they always were.

And, when he sees Abi, they stop, as they always do, until she smiles at him. He seems to breathe a sigh of relief as we finally reach each other, and we feel the need to start conversation.

Abi, as always, starts the exchange.

"Leslie," she asks, "How did work go?"

Truly, it makes some of us mad to have our day home follow such a strict dialogue when he gets home. Abi loves familiarality, but, seriously, can't she say something new once in a while!? But, that was mean, and I take it back. She needs the structure, or she falls apart. Even though I feel that things need to be bright, shiny, and new, I am glad for this common thing in her life.

Leslie, as always, replies to her after a moment of thought.

"Work was fine, Abi dear. How was school?" he asks, but his is voice filled with tension. More so than usual, and Kraden and I share a look, afraid of what this means. We need to distract him, before he does something drastic.

Abi, though, is happy that she has been called upon to answer the question, and she radiates happiness. She begins, looking at me, though, to interrupt if need be.

"Because today was the first day," she starts, and looking at Les's face, I know that this is my cue.

"There were all sorts of new people with new problems to fix. We met a family that radiates good smells, and are a little chilly. Their eyes are gold, and they barely eat anything at lunch! Kraden looked into it, and he says that they are vampires!"

He relaxes, happy that we are starting school off so well. But, then his face changes, as if something I have said has worried him.

I am shocked.

What did I do?

_It was the word "vampires" that frightened him. _

Why?

And, in less than a second, I am told the story of Les as a young one, when he was a little bit over 100 years.

He was in Italy, a city called Volterra. A cold hand brushed him. In an act of innocence, he wondered why it was so cold. And, obviously, he was answered. He learned about vampires and their ways. But, he believed that perhaps it was a mind-reading one that had touched him, and left it far alone. He has been afraid of vampires ever sense.

Because he was not strong enough too, I ask if it was the mind-reader that had brushed his hand so long ago, and I am answered with a laughing "no".

There is no way to explain my relief for him. Although his fears had been based on something fine, his inability to try to live was insane, not that I would tell him that.

With an inside smile, I ask who it was who he had come across in the alleyway and if they were dangerous. Again, the reply is like a laugh.

_It was a young vampire, a visitor from another place, and definitely not a danger to your family if you do not pose a threat against them. The name, although unneeded, was Carlisle Cullen._

The name makes no recollection in me, apart from …

Wait, a couple of the young vamps at school were called "Cullen".

I count them in my head. Alice, Edward, and Emmett. The others were a Jasper and a Rosalie Hale. But, they all lived together and they were "adopted". Now, I can see what is between them. I am filled with an interest in this family that surprises even me.

"Vampires." He sounds shocked, and his face is filled with indecision.

I barely notice, though, for plans that are forming in my mind revolving around the center of his fears.

However, my plans are shoved aside as he yells.

"What were you thinking!" His voice is filled with an anger that rarely fits anyone in the household, let alone Les himself.

"You DO realize that your blood will smell all the sweeter to them? You ARE, after all, a mythical creature too, just not so much widely known."

I struggle to understand that his fear is what makes him act this way. I look at the others and they are all as shocked as I am. Hopefully, they are too shocked to wonder at his actions, but I see Marie's face turn in anticipation of an answer. Quickly, I send a thought at them, telling them not to wonder. They will follow my lead, as I am, probably, one of the favorites for leader when Les is not there. _Leave him his privacy_, I tell them, conveniently forgetting to tell them that I have already broken this new rule.

"Actually," I start, reminding him that the others were standing in front of him. They seem curious.

" Kraden did wonder about their eating habits, he said that they called themselves 'vegetarians', but we had no idea of what that meant. So, instead, he asked if there was a mind-game that would shield our smells, and the answer was "Yes". He was asked to imagine the worst smell possible, and he says that he first thought of garbage, then pollution, but eventually landed on blood. And, apparently it worked. They never gave us a second look, except the shortest, pixie-like one who stared at Kraden's shirt like it was going to kill her. I wondered why and apparently it is because she 'prides herself on her fashion sense'!"

Here I pause to insert a giggle, to seem myself to them all, but, after taking a breath, I plummet back into the story.

"They seemed nice enough; they were secluded in their group, so we couldn't get a good enough look. We took a vote and decided to show favor to them tomorrow, just to see their reaction. We ARE the social elite this year, you know. They should be happy to be popular."

_But they won't_, I know it.

But, this split-second decision is a good one, and I know that too. It will help us to be able to know, if we are close by.

I suppose that this means that there will be less time to fix people (however many times Les calls it "messing with them", we know better; we are fixing their lives for the better), but if it means there is a possibility to helping Les, every single one of us would take it, and we will.

And, as he calms down, I know that he asked his voice if he was being hunted by them. He looks visibly relieved, to me at least, and to Kraden too, as I look over at him. But, thankfully, other than us and Marie, the others in this family do not see the change that takes over him.

He smiles, comforted, and decides to tell us a story about his work.

Leslie works at a store that he owns, a big place that sells vintage stuff, and then the other stuff that is normal in a store. He enjoys picking out the candies that are placed next to the register, one of the only people that I can ever think likes doing stuff like that.

He smiles wide, and we all sit in a circle, like people do at camp.

"Today there was a lady who came in and she was INSANE. She acted as if she owned the place, which, we all know that she doesn't, and she started yelling at a couple' o the workers there. She said stuff like 'If you put that down in the wrong spot AGAIN, I will have you fired!' She was disruptin' the place, and I couldn't have that, could I? So, I went over there, and I said 'Lady, can you clam down?! You're disruptin' the peace of the store, and, I can call the owner and see if he wants you to leave.' She looked at me as if I was the crazy one and she said 'Oh, you wouldn't do that' and I'm all like, 'obviously, I will, just give me another reason. By the way, was that a threat?' and she's telling me that, 'Obviously! I know the owner here and I KNOW that he would let me act any way that I want to here!' The workers that she was harassing had called the police, and now they're watching our conversation. They laughed SO HARD when she said that one. So, I tell her, 'Sorry, you got the wrong place, the owner of THIS PLACE is a hermit and the only person that SHE knows is me'. Let me tell you, the workers, Jim and Sara, were rolling on the floor they though that was so funny! But, the lady knew that I was lying about that, she's like 'There are no hermits around here' and so I tell her that that may be right, but whatever. The police got there and sorted everything out. They apologized to me, and then they left with her. However, she's pressing charges."

That is one of the lamest stories in the history of stories, but, because we are expected to, we laugh as hard as we can, clutching at our sides for air.

Kraden, however, looks at him seriously, and tells him that the charges will come to nothing.

Les's expression softens as he looks at us, his happy family, his fears of vampires gone, for the moment. Hope says that he will forget altogether, but you don't need to be amazing like we are to know that he won't.

* * *

Back in Forks, a crazed Bella was leaving. Probably for good this time. Charlie looked on with a sigh.

* * *

So, how was it?! Better, I hope.

Do you love my wonderful Les as much as I do?


End file.
